


Ex Favilla

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Convocation of Fourteen - Freeform, Light Horror, M/M, Pre-Doom Amaurot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: After a prolonged absence fighting the effects of a mysterious Sound that has appeared across the ocean Azem abruptly quits the field, bringing reports far more disturbing than the Convocation had truly believed or understood.  Not that they thought their Shepherd a liar or particularly prone to exaggeration, of course, but hearing his direct account, seeing his haggard exhaustion, the horrors he conjures from woven light and the brimming trauma when he speaks of his experiences, strikes each one to the core in a way hasty reports have failed to do.  And so they must divine what to do about this threat, one that, it seems, is more severe than they could have imagined.But why does Azem seem so burdened?  What catalyst prompted his hasty return?  And why does he oppose the brilliant idea of a grand Creation so staunchly?
Relationships: Azem/Elidibus (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The rating and relationship tag is for down the road.

One last time Elidibus scanned the reports before him. There were still a few minutes before the session would officially begin, and he intended to use them to the fullest. Chronologically ordered, each report was shorter than the last, more terse. More concerning. The final one bore nothing more than Azem's symbol and the phrase "Returning with all possible haste."

After some of the horrors Azem had described in the early reports, the simple words struck disproportionate dread into his breast.

A hush fell upon the Convocation chamber, bringing his head up. There he was—black mask turning to sweep the room as the massive double doors closed behind him, robes churning halfway to his knees from the briskness of his stride. Lahabrea's voice rang out to greet him.

"Given the nature of this meeting, let us not stand on ceremony. Are there any objections to Azem immediately taking the floor?"

Silence greeted his question, and he bowed toward Azem. "The floor is yours."

Azem pulled to a stop, acknowledging the speaker with a return bow and a faint smile, soon faded back to a stern expression as he changed course, coming up to the lectern. Elidibus’s eyes widened behind his mask as the normally upright Convocation member put his hands upon the lectern’s sides and leaned forward, the weight of his torso resting partially on the finely wrought metal and glass stand. That was unusual—beyond unusual. Normally others would jest that his spine was held straight by the addition of a metal rod somewhere within him. Elidibus could not help but see the slight bend to that spine, the aura of weariness hanging like a cloud about him, as an ill omen indeed.

The feeling only worsened as he began to speak. Voice abnormally hoarse, he began right off by detailing the terrors he had witnessed, plants and animals twisted, creation itself running amok from this inexplicable Sound erupting from beneath the very ground. Each word, phrase, sentence, sent new shockwaves through the assembled leaders, not a one of them willing to interrupt the explanation with aught more than gasps and the softest of mutters and whispers. Even these trailed into numb silence as Azem detailed the difficulties he had experienced in battling them.

Elidibus had understood that the situation was bad, of course. The reports had made that much clear, and his skills as a mediator had several times been put to the test as tensions rose and disagreements grew heated in response. But he had not truly understood  _ how _ bad it was before seeing bright Azem so dull and dispirited in its face. Looking around, it was plain he was not the only one in shock; each Convocation member showed signs of worry, stress, disbelief.

This, he realized soberly, would try each of them to their limits. May they be equal to the challenge, he prayed, for their very star's sake.

Eventually Azem fell silent, seeming to run out of energy to go on rather than events to report. For a minute the great chamber seemed to echo with the force of that silence, until Lahabrea broke it.

"If it please you, Azem, I move we adjourn for a few hours. I am sure you are exhausted from your trials, and we could all use time to take this in."

"I would be grateful."

With no objections, the meeting broke up, devolving into a buzz of small conversations as groups lingered or left the hall. Elidibus remained seated, too heartsick to join in the chatter or subject himself to the crowd clumping about the door. Instead he studied Azem, wondering at the normally strong man's plain weariness. He must have worked himself to exhaustion attempting to push back the horrors, but with new eruptions bursting forth seemingly at random, most likely it had been only a matter of time until he was overwhelmed. What else would drive him to return when, by his own reports, the lands across the sea burned more now than when he had first joined the fight?

"Elidibus, are you all right?"

His attention returned at Lahabrea's voice. Standing, he faced the speaker, noting Igeyorhm silent at his side.

"This news is disturbing indeed, but I will be fine. It is simply a lot to assimilate."

"Indeed." Grave sorrow filled his words. "Given your particular nature and abilities, I cannot help but worry about you. To feel such shock and horror magnified fourteen-fold can be no easy thing."

At that Elidibus could not help but smile. "On the contrary. None here are the sort to give in to despair. Each swell of anguish has thus far been met with commensurate determination and resolve. Serving upon the Convocation has, if anything, made me stronger than ever." He emphasized the point with a light fist-strike over his heart. "Nonetheless, I thank you for your concern. We shall all have to support one another through the coming trials, I fear."

"That we shall," agreed Igeyorhm, unusually subdued. "That we shall. As ever, pray seek us out with any concerns that arise." With nods exchanged all around, they departed.

Elidibus looked around to find the room now nearly deserted. As he watched, Mitron and Loghrif made their exit, leaving Azem standing still in the center of the floor and Lahabrea and Igeyorhm en route to the door. With a sigh he began to head that way as well.

From his seat, he had to pass near Azem to reach the door unless he wanted to follow the room's perimeter. Though the thought of passing so close to the senior Convocation member made his heart thud and his breath go suddenly scarce, he certainly didn't want to seem like he was avoiding him either. With a deep breath that did nothing to steady his nerves, he descended to the floor.

There was, he allowed, something magical to the experience, to this hyper-awareness, every sense tuned for a sign that the other might notice him. Not that he would, of course, or at least not beyond the seat of Elidibus. He was still relatively new to the position, after all; in the millennium (well, nearly) since he had been appointed, Azem had spent the vast majority of his time away, leaving him to follow the shepherd’s exploits primarily through the lens of his reports and accounts. At first it was because all was well at home, leaving him free to wander to his heart’s content, then later, as troubles began to stir far away, he had been kept busy addressing issues as they cropped up.

Elidibus realized that, if he had come home, he must expect trouble to be headed this way, as well. The thought dimmed the bubbly excitement coursing through his—

“Elidibus.”

He jerked, shock freezing him in place, his heart kicking in his chest.

“I am glad you lingered. I had hoped for a chance to speak with you privately.”

Praying Azem hadn’t noticed his ungainly start, he took a deep breath, turning to face him. “Of course. What can I do for you?” Somehow, his voice stayed steady; clearly the stars were smiling upon him.

With a soft grunt Azem straightened from his leaning position. His arms spread and then arched overhead in a stretch, punctuated by a deep sigh, and he came to Elidibus’s side. “Let me not detain you. We can speak as we walk.”

With a nod, heart still in his throat, Elidibus set forth once more. Azem’s pace was slow; he matched it, trying not to let his worry show. “Not to fear,” he said, anxiety pushing him to fill the brief silence. “I have no destination in mind beyond anywhere I may begin to digest what you have shared with us. So please, there is no rush, nor any place I ought to be.”

“Very well,” came the murmured response. As the silence grew once more, Elidibus could not help but fret. What could Azem wish to talk about? He didn’t seem angry or disappointed, merely weary. Eyeing Azem’s slow gait as subtly as he could around his mask and hood, he dared once more to break the silence.

“There are benches down these hallways, if you would prefer to sit. As I indicated, I but need quiet to think, and the Capitol is as good a place for that as any other."

Azem's head turned away as he glanced down the hallway. When he turned back to Elidibus he was smiling.

"Is my exhaustion so evident?"

"To others, likely not. But you must recall my particular abilities give me an advantage in that arena." Sensing Azem's steps hesitating, he stopped, giving the shepherd a smile.

Azem's own smile grew crooked, and he raised a hand, setting it on Elidibus's shoulder. The contact made heat rush to his head, making Azem's next words difficult to hear. "Thoughtful as ever. Thank you. I suppose it would be nice to take a load off." They made for the nearest one, and Elidibus seated himself with care, trying not to show how off-balance he was. 

Again, the silence. It ate at Elidibus's mind. Beyond weariness, he could discern little of how Azem felt, but it was always more difficult for him to read people he did not know well. Something must be terribly wrong, he finally concluded, for the shepherd to labor so to put his thoughts into words. Something to do with himself, mayhap, some grave error he had made, or an omission… Azem's voice finally cut through his worries.

"In thinking how best to convey the gravity of our impending situation to each of my colleagues upon the Convocation, I came to realize that I have not properly taken the time to get to know you. It is an oversight I had intended to correct long before now, putting it off ever in the name of the next crisis, assuming there will be plenty of time later." A deep sigh drew forth, gusting between them. "And now I find myself woefully short of time."

"None could have known what the strange events happening afar portended. In truth, were it not for your own wanderings, we likely would have little idea of the situation's gravity at this juncture."

"True." Azem's tone was reflective. "Still, I wish I could have known to take advantage of the peaceful times before." He turned a warm smile on Elidibus. "From all I have heard, you have proven an excellent choice for your position. Each of our colleagues has spoken of you only in favorable terms, extolling your talent for finding connections and compromises despite the increasingly divisive situations facing our governing body."

Elidibus felt his face warm at the praise. "They are too kind. I still have much to learn, much improvement to seek.”

Now Azem’s gaze fixed to his mask. “Do not we all? But I speak naught but the truth when I say this—every time I beheld the fruits of your labors I worried less about the length of my absences. Each report of your capability emboldened me to linger longer afield.” He chuckled. “Oh, irony of ironies, that your own skill and competence freed me to rely so on you, and in so doing I failed to express how much it meant to me.”

Words lodged in Elidibus’s throat. His face was an inferno now, the flush surely obvious to any that might look on him. Azem had truly trusted so in his skills? But it  _ must _ be true; he himself had seen how the shepherd had returned with regularity at first, his absences growing longer over time.

Azem gave no sign of noticing his reaction. "I am so proud to see how you have risen to meet the challenges of the emissary's role. I confess, not knowing you before your nomination, I had some misgivings about your relative inexperience and your gentle nature. But you have shown yourself to have an adamant core and a nigh-sneaky finesse in your work. And of course no one has ever questioned the strength of your gifts." Azem once more turned that smile full-force upon him, and Elidibus would have sworn he felt the gentle warmth of it radiating over him. "I am unspeakably grateful that you were selected, and that you accepted the position."

Finally Elidibus managed to speak. "I had no idea."

Azem's mien turned grave. "And how could you? That failure, that blame, is mine alone. I hope you will forgive me my thoughtlessness. Certainly I do not intend to let future chances to recognize your efforts pass me by.”

“Please,” Elidibus managed, “there is no need—”

But Azem cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “I disagree. You are too modest by far. And it is vital to recognize good work, to laud it and thereby encourage more instead of leaving it to languish in obscurity.” A squeeze of strong fingers, and Azem released him, shifting to stand. “Apologies, but I am still quite weary from my travels. If you’ll excuse me, I should like to rest a bit before the Convocation meets once more. I hope we may speak again sometime soon.”

“Nothing would bring me more pleasure. Please, take all the rest you need. I think we all have much to consider before next we convene.” Elidibus stood to offer him a bow. “And of course, thank you for your kind words. May I continue to live up to them in the trying times to come.”

Azem returned the bow, rising with a grin. “I haven’t the shadow of a doubt that you will, Elidibus. Thank you—as ever—for all that you do for us.” With that, Azem turned and strode off.

Elidibus watched him go, sinking down once more to his seat upon the bench. Did Azem have a bit more spring in his step than before? Was his posture just a bit straighter now, the haze about him somewhat diminished? Perhaps he was simply imagining it in his lightheaded bliss at being so complimented and recognized—not simply by another member of the Convocation, but by Azem himself! Though… if it were possible that his own words had lightened Azem’s heart… With a shuddering sigh he pressed his hands to his chest.

Would that not be absolutely wonderful?

Head and heart so full of joy he feared he might float off the bench, he let his thoughts linger for a moment longer upon the precious words, the precious gift, he had been given. Only duty’s grave importance was finally able to cool his pleasure, turning his thoughts once more to the swelling crisis facing their star.

Somehow, though, despite the horror of the situation, he could not help but feel the stirrings of optimism. With Azem back, surely there was nothing they could not accomplish.

* * *

Azem felt his heart race, his blood sing in fear and fervor. His pursuer was close, too close. He had to go faster. Somehow. His body weakly refused to cooperate, moving sluggishly, feeble. Creation foundered, too dim a flame to answer his call, and he cursed, slamming at levers and dials in desperation.

Something seemed to work. He felt the beast begin to fall behind once more, and raised his eyes to his destination. Naught more than a pale orb… but even from here he could feel the power of hope radiating out. Resonating with him. Beating in time with his own desperately racing heart.

Maybe he would make it after all.

* * *

Azem gasped, eyes flying wide in the dim office. A dream. Just a dream. The same one again, stitched together from a gift of memory.

Gulping air, he reminded himself that it was okay, that he—that his other self—had made it, had succeeded in his mission. Against all odds and at great cost…

Rolling off the cot, he stretched, trying to banish the dream’s lingering tendrils. They clung to the shadows of his mind like cobwebs, insubstantial and tickling. A thorough limbering routine helped not only with that but also to quicken his blood, and he straightened, double-checking the clock on his desk. Almost time for the meeting to resume, as he had figured. For a moment he closed his eyes, breathing deep.

Promising himself that it would be different. That he would not fail them this time.

Centering himself around this determination, this certainty, he snuffed the room’s lights and made his way into the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

A day and a half of seemingly pointless back-and-forth was not enough to dim Elidibus’s joy one bit. The emotion fueled him, helping him to stay open-minded and kind as disagreements rose and crested. While it felt like the Convocation was getting nowhere, he reminded himself—and the others, as necessary—that ruling out possibilities was progress. By the end of a full day of debate and brainstorming, he was weary, though he yet clung to optimism. Too many, he knew, were foundering from loss of hope. He would do his best to remain positive and keep a bright outlook.

As the assembly began to disperse, he lingered in his seat, watching the others begin to form groups or head to the door. Well, to be entirely honest, he was mostly watching Azem. He moved better after a night's rest—still a bit weary, but not so blatantly exhausted as the day before. Unsurprisingly, he was a hub of post-session discussion, a number of other Convocation members moving in his orbit. Elidibus couldn't hear the conversation from where he was, but well could he guess its general topic from their collective demeanor—this mysterious Sound and its terrible effects.

All things considered, it was a miracle Azem had not been stricken, altered by it. Elidibus leaned forward, watching as Deudalaphon offered Azem a bow, taking her leave, and Emet-Selch glided up to ask some question. For a moment he entertained the possibility of attaching himself to that group, even if just to listen, to hear Azem’s voice as he spoke. But he feared he would have nothing constructive to say, nothing to contribute. After all, had he not already monopolized enough of Azem’s time the other day?

Once again his thoughts went flitting back to those warm moments Azem had taken to encourage and thank him. He knew those words would echo within him for the remainder of his days; certainly he had engraved them in his heart of hearts, treasuring and holding to them. If only…

If only they hadn’t felt so final.

Elidibus snapped straight in his seat as he finally realized what had been troubling him, prodding at the back of his mind. Those words, their frank and confessional nature, reminded him of what someone might wish to get off their chest if they thought they might soon die, if they thought time was short. He forced himself to breathe slowly, deeply, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. Their time did seem to be running short, he reminded himself forcefully. It might be nothing more than that. It would be nothing but detrimental for him to jump to conclusions at this juncture.

Yet somehow he could not shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Why else would Azem seek Elidibus out to share these things he had never found time to say before? Why else make plans to speak to each of the Convocation members? Elidibus’s eyes narrowed in study. Azem still seemed quite weary, from what he could remember from watching him before this Sound business. Was it naught but the stress of unrelenting combat and travel? Or had something happened to him?

Why had he chosen to return _now?_

Heart thudding in sudden fear, Elidibus foundered. Even if something were wrong, what could he do? What could he possibly accomplish that Azem himself could not remedy? But he could not simply shrug and accept this, either. No; there had to be _something._ Azem was wise, yes, knowledgeable and experienced. But no one member of the Convocation knew everything. Was not this precise philosophy what their governing body was founded on?

He would find what specter dogged Azem’s heels, and he would banish it. Whether by his own skills or by bringing it to the attention of those who could take care of it. It was the least he could do for Azem. Course decided, certainty firm, he stood and descended to the room’s floor. A few moments brought him to the edge of the dwindling crowd about Azem, and he returned the shepherd’s distracted smile as he tuned in to the discussion.

* * *

By days and degrees Azem approached the vigor he had shown before this budding catastrophe. Approached, in the mathematical sense—getting closer, yes, but never truly reaching that point. Perhaps it was just that the stress of their collective burden weighed them all down, Azem included. But until Elidibus was certain he was not hiding some dire secret, some injury or knowledge of his end, he would not rest.

To his surprise, the focus his self-appointed mission afforded him did much to keep his head, ordinarily in the clouds near Azem, level and sharp. Instead of mentally tracing the shape of his mask or lips, he watched for the faintest changes wrought upon his expression by each emotion or thought, the way the air about him seemed to shimmer or charge with his moods. It did not take him long to begin to pick up on the subtler clues, to read him better. And each strengthening impression reinforced what he had already deduced.

There was something odd about Azem.

Most of the time, he could easily miss it. His behavior was not far outside of the ordinary, nothing that would draw comment or notice from his compeers. Indeed, were it not for Elidibus's particular gift, he likely would not have noticed the odd reaction here and there. But, attuned as he was, with his focus blade-sharp, he had begun to put together the kinds of topics that garnered a stronger than usual reaction from Azem.

He was, unsurprisingly, keenly interested in any possible solutions to this strange Sound and its deleterious effects. Lahabrea's suggestions, however, were invariably met with pointed concern, if not worse. It puzzled Elidibus. For one thing, the speaker's ideas seemed to have merit, yet Azem obviously (at least to the enhanced perception granted by his gift) found them downright alarming. What was more, while the two were not confidants, they had always been professionally close. This new distance between them was unusual.

What's more, he had, as he'd promised during their first conversation, continued to seek out opportunities to encourage and recognize Elidibus's contributions. While it never failed to make his heart soar, he had quickly recognized the hints of worry that drove Azem each time he did so. He seemed for all the world to be deeply concerned over Elidibus. It was almost as though he thought such encouragement would somehow afford him some degree of protection, as though his words could serve as armor against some dire fate.

What was he trying to protect him from?

Whatever it was, Azem was keeping it tightly under wraps. If he confided his worries in anyone, Elidibus saw no indication of it. And each day his resolve to untangle this mystery grew firmer.

Determination made him bold, turning his steps in free moments to the places he thought Azem might frequent. Upon one cool evening a quiet park yielded the hoped-for results: Azem, seated on a bench, lost deep in thought.

"You seem troubled."

Azem started at his voice, and Elidibus endeavored to hide his wince. He had assumed the shepherd would have heard his footsteps approach. Ordinarily he was highly aware of his surroundings.

"My apologies," he hastened on before Azem could respond. "It is not my intention to intrude. If you would prefer the company of your thoughts…"

But Azem cut him off with a gesture, motioning to the bench beside him. "Please, join me." For a moment there was silence as he settled himself beside Azem. "Your observation is correct. I _am_ troubled.”

“What preys on your mind?”

Azem sighed. “The growing popularity of Lahabrea’s proposed solution. I feel that many have latched onto it rather than continue to look for a better solution simply because it is something they might _do.”_ His jaw clenched, frustration leaking into his mien. “And for that I find myself to blame. After all, was it not my return that pushed the Convocation largely from inactive concern to actively seeking a solution? But by the same token what would it say about us to find the first possibility that offers itself and simply accept it?”

“Mmm.” Elidibus pondered a moment. “Your return may have been a catalyst, but that does not mean you are to blame. If we are worried, if we seek salvation, help from any source that might offer it, that is no fault of yours. Rather we must blame the stress and worry caused by facing such a monumental—seemingly, at times, insurmountable—situation that we must somehow solve. We must blame our own tendencies toward complacency, too long unchallenged, now leaving us panicked and scrambling.” That tension did not ease, and he reached out to lay a hand on Azem’s arm. “I mean it. You _must not_ blame yourself.”

“How can I not? I have no solution to offer in this one’s stead.”

“Not yet.” Serenity, calm confidence, filled his tone, born of the faith he had in Azem. “But if we work together we will find one.”

Azem’s head came up, his lips parting as he stared for a moment at Elidibus. “You would help me?”

Elidibus smiled. “Mediation is not only my role, but my nature. It has pained me to see you and Lahabrea at odds. The two of you have ever worked well together. If I might help you find a common solution, then I will be glad of it.” His expression went serious. “A core component of the issue is that Lahabrea _has_ a solution. One very much in line with his expertise, thereby granting him a high degree of confidence in its success.

“Upon the other side, phantomology is not your area of expertise. So he asks you what particulars you object to, and you cannot name any, leading him to frustration and eventual dismissal of your concerns.” Elidibus folded his hands, his brow wrinkling behind his mask. “It is an issue I have thought upon, but no straightforward solution has thus far presented itself. This is, of course, one of the reasons I approached you just now. I have spoken at length with Lahabrea, and while I am likewise no expert in the area, I have taken my measure of his solution, of his confidence in its success. But I would hear your side of the matter, as well.”

“Thank you.” Azem’s voice was soft, warm. “To be frank, I have felt like no one has truly paid any heed to my words. To have even one person genuinely listen is a blessing. And that it is yourself is all the sweeter, for if any can help me find a solution and, more saliently, convince others of it should it prove sound, it is you.”

Heat touched Elidibus’s face in the wake of those words; taking a deep breath, he tried to push his personal feelings aside. “In the end, I do believe we are all following what paths we think best. But I have my own misgivings about Lahabrea’s plans.”

It was true. The majority of his concern revolved around Azem’s own unusual reactions, but his gift made him sensitive to more than just other people’s feelings and inclinations. He had himself heard the whispers of these vast and strange aetherial creatures, the offers made that, with enough power, they could halt this creeping destruction that nibbled away at the very star. Lahabrea seemed sure he could find a way to tame them, to bend them to the Convocation’s will, but the ultimate end of his design was to be a soul for the star itself. And everyone knew full well: souls could not be created. Only born.

"Let us begin, then, with addressing what concerns we have with the proffered solution. Is there something particular about it that troubles you?"

Azem sighed. "Nay. The idea of appealing to such a power for salvation fills me with dread. But I cannot say what about it would prove to be so terrible."

_Lie._

For a moment Elidibus could not breathe. Falsity stained the air about Azem, something he would have expected never to see. His heart twisted, almost knifelike in his chest. _Why?_ Why would he lie? But the answer was immediately plain.

This must be the crux of the matter, the secret he held back. Somehow he _knew_ something about this grand design of Lahabrea's, that something would go wrong, or that it simply would not work. Somehow he _knew_ they needed a different solution.

For an instant Elidibus teetered, unsure of his course. Should he trust whatever secret knowledge Azem seemed to hold, despite having just been lied to? Or would he simply be setting himself up for heartbreak?

In the end it was little choice at all. Azem had always guided them aright before. If he concealed the truth now, Elidibus had to trust he had good reason to do so. He had faith in their shepherd, even if he did not understand. His decision was made.

“It would be more convenient, I confess, to have specific points to shoot down. But I believe we will persevere nonetheless. Whatever solution we devise will simply have to be more effective, more elegant.” He took a deep breath, searching his mind for ideas. If only they had some clear and logical starting point. But he would not let it deter him. Together they would do what had to be done, for the preservation of their star. And perhaps, in time, he would win Azem’s trust, his respect. Perhaps even his confidence.

* * *

Azem watched Elidibus deliver his counsel on the matter of the proposed plan. The younger man stood tall, confident and serene at the podium, his rich voice reverberating through the room, and all within listened with rapt attention to his words.

Azem had been sorely tempted to use his influence over Elidibus to put forward his agenda, to in essence use him as a mouthpiece. His mission was of dire importance. He could not countenance failure, for it would be the end of all he knew and the beginning of the slow corruption of his closest friends. But he had held back, had trusted in their emissary to do what was best for all, not just what he personally felt right, providing guidance and advice but not unduly influencing the younger Convocation member's words and decisions.

It seemed his faith was to be rewarded. Elidibus's speech was persuasive, eloquent. He cut to the heart of their collective fears, laid them bare, and addressed them. Azem could see that fear recede, could see hope grow, as one after another his fellows of the Convocation sat straighter, taller. It was like a wound healing, festering flesh located and excised so that true recovery could begin—but upon their emotions, the mind and heart rather than the body.

"And so I entreat you, my brothers and sisters, not to yield to fear. Though this may seem, at times, beyond us, remember always that united we are greater than the sum of our parts. Each of us brings something irreplaceable to the Convocation, brings knowledge, skills, and perspective that no other can offer. And by the same token, not a one of us stands alone. At our call, the city herself will rise to stand behind us—to offer us whatever tools we require to bring about our star's salvation.

"A complex and ever-changing situation demands a similarly complex solution, and I expect that all present will have a part to play in it. Make no mistake, it will try us, perhaps sorely. But I truly believe that, in the end, a solution which combines the absolute best of each of our disciplines, each of our specialties and abilities, will stand firm where a less multifaceted, hastier plan might falter. Let us make the most of the time which remains to us, and make our final solution a tapestry rather than a blanket."

Azem felt his eyes drawn to Lahabrea as Elidibus concluded his delivery. The stubborn twist he feared he would see on the speaker's lips was nowhere in evidence, to his immeasurable relief. Instead, surprise turned up into a smile, small but warm. Relief washed through him. Somehow Elidibus had done it, had managed to challenge the concept without challenging Lahabrea’s pride in it.

Azem realized with a wry smile that no other upon the Convocation possessed the diplomatic finesse to manage such a thing. Least of all himself.

He kept his seat as the Convocation adjourned, watching as others rose and began to congregate. Hope, the same hope that raised voices in chatter more vivid and bold than he had heard since his return, swelled within his breast as well. He did not want to be at odds with Lahabrea. The old man could be stubborn, but his knowledge and experience were without peer. He did not know if he could truly end this Sound without his help.

Lahabrea descended to the floor, seizing the opportunity to speak with Elidibus, and Azem turned his eyes to the emissary as well. Faint color touched his pale skin beneath the mask; clearly he was grappling once more with the accolades he had earned. It brought a smile to his lips to see it, and relief to his heart. He could not bear the idea of Elidibus being sacrificed to this… _thing_ Lahabrea had wanted to invite in. Even if it should prove the only way… Nay; he shook his head fiercely. He _would not_ let it happen so. The cost was too high, even if he should manage to find a way to keep it from spiraling out of control and ending everything.

To see the way the entire Convocation had gathered about Elidibus, though, to see the hope suffusing them where it had waned dim before, awoke memories that Azem had not yet had the chance to fully explore…

* * *

He fell to his knees upon the enormous platform, winded from sprinting so far. Before him, red pulsed, slow, fading to purple, then bright once more. Hands scrabbling at the console before him, he managed to activate _something._

Vast and distant machinery clanked, metal screaming as it moved for the first time in untold aeons. Drumming his hands upon the edge of the control panel did naught to hasten its slow progress, and fear nipped at his heels—how long until his pursuer would arrive? After what seemed an eternity vast dark wings unfolded and _something_ trained its gaze upon him.

“I can sense that thy heart craveth salvation. Speak to me thy wish, the truest desire of thy innermost heart.”

Slowly, haltingly, with words nigh-broken from the desperation of his situation, he explained the hope that had driven him to this place, the fear that chased him. The horror that would befall, if this reawakened god chose to refuse his request.

With no time for diplomacy and no will to deceive, he bared his heart—his wish. To _be_ the path that would save the Ancients. To prevent the Sundering. To forestall the doom which yet echoed throughout their divided world.

To see this god taken far, far from those who would use His power for ill.

For too long He was silent. “What promise canst thou give—of thy will, of thy capability? What thou desirest is greater than thou understand’st. Perhaps even greater than My power can grant.”

Now he drew the god's attention to the sinister presence hunting Him. It was close, far too close. With his heartbeat thudding in his chest, he prayed for hope with every fiber of his being.

It was answered.

"In this hope, our hearts beat as one. To thee do I entrust my all—every hope, every dream, every memory. Every soul, for each is united in this hope, and in faith that thou canst see this salvation through to success." Warmth swelled, reaching out, engulfing him. _Becoming_ him.

"May all that I am suffice to see our wishes through into truth…”

Becoming Them.

Now. Now They might bring about true and ultimate salvation.

* * *

Shaking his head, blinking back to the present, Azem saw that the crowd that had surged about Elidibus was now largely diminished. He stood, smiling, to add his congratulations to those the emissary had already been given.


	3. Chapter 3

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know you must be terribly busy at present.”

Elidibus smiled, clasping the proffered hand. “Not so busy that I haven’t time for you. Now more than ever it is vital that we hear and address concerns as they arise. You are the coordinator for the greater Amaurot area’s volunteer emergency response force, no?”

“I am.” Her smile made plain how touched she was that Elidibus had remembered. “I shall come directly to the point, if I may. We typically restrict our rescue activities to Amaurot and her surrounding lands, preferring to stand ready for any disasters which might occur. But we have of late been in discussion over the possibility of sending some of our task force further afield, to see if we could help with the aftereffects of this distant tragedy. Obviously we do not know the entire situation, nor are we equipped to interface with other governments, so we decided to seek the Convocation’s input at this juncture.”

Elidibus clasped his hands behind his back. “A noble and worthwhile aim. I commend you for your forward thinking and generosity. At this stage the Convocation is still seeking more information on precisely what we are facing. The majority of our members and their aides are currently traveling, gathering first- and second-hand accounts, samples, anything we can find relating to this Sound. Once all have completed their investigations, we hope to assemble the knowledge we gain into a solution.

“That said, we do know a few things already. The contamination wrought by the Sound has thus far proven irreversible. As such, we are loath to send anyone into danger until we can devise some form of protection against its effects. Of course, you may rest assured that we are working with all possible haste on this very issue, but at present we do not have any estimate for when such a thing might be available. My personal recommendation would be to hold you back until such time as your safety afield can be assured, at which time we may begin whatever necessary arrangements to deploy volunteers to affected areas."

The nod he received in response was slow, thoughtful. "I see." Her words were equally metered. "Under the circumstances that seems best. As much as it pains me not to act in the face of suffering, to behave rashly will only worsen the situation. For now we will remain prepared for any local emergencies and continue to train in the hopes that we may soon assist our brethren across the sea."

Elidibus nodded his approval. "I will keep your intentions in mind as the situation develops. One more thing—though it is hard to chart clearly, the area affected by this Sound does seem to be expanding. Now is the time to recruit new members to your order, to begin their training before the situation might grow desperate. I will bear word of your intentions to the rest of the Convocation and see if we might lend our voice to yours, to encourage those who wish to help but do not know how to join with you and arm themselves with the skills to save others."

Finally the dark cloud of concern about her began to disperse. "That would be wonderful. Thank you again for your time." She gave him a dip of her head.

Hasty footsteps drew Elidibus's gaze away for a moment, and his eyes lingered on seeing Lahabrea come around a corner. The speaker made down the hallway toward them; no way to tell at this distance if he was heading for Elidibus or simply passing by.

"Of course," he responded, training his suddenly divided attention back on the coordinator. "As ever, I remain at your disposal. Contact me with any future concerns or questions, please."

Once more they shook hands, exchanging polite goodbyes. Lahabrea pulled up beside them as she turned to go, responding to her curious glance with a somewhat curt nod.

"Elidibus. Are you free?"

"I am." At Lahabrea's beckon he jolted into motion, falling in beside him as he took off once more.

"Good. I assume you also will want to see this." He smiled at Elidibus's sharp glance, seeming to enjoy drawing the suspense out. "A fearsome creature—a twisted creation of the Sound. It is being installed in a secure wing of Akadaemia Anyder as we speak."

His heart kicked, alarm and excitement. "A live subject? So soon…" Suspicion sharpened. "Does this mean Azem is back?"

"Just so," Lahabrea confirmed. “He is overseeing the implementation of our security measures. I imagine he’ll linger there for some time to make certain there are no mishaps. I intend to begin my study of this creature right away, of course.”

Excitement coursed through Elidibus at the tidings. He had taken great personal pride, as well as no small measure of relief, in helping Lahabrea and Azem mend their bridges. The culmination of it all had been a collaborative venture. Since Lahabrea could not travel to see first-hand the effects of the Sound, the twisted creatures it begat, tethered as he was by his responsibilities as speaker, Azem resolved to use his own abilities to subdue and bring back creatures for him to study. He had seemed thrilled by the challenge as well as the excuse to travel, to once more pit himself against this threat but, rather than fighting for ground only to lose it once more the next day, to contribute to what might prove a solution to the larger issue.

For his part, Elidibus tried not to worry about Azem in his absence, busying himself with helping Lahabrea to coordinate the Convocation's travels, easing the way for them to go where their respective disciplines led them. With Lahabrea now likely to spend every spare moment examining this captured creature, perhaps he would take over the greater part of the daily communication and organization of reports that Lahabrea ordinarily did. After all, his own specialty was of little use in the study of this phenomenon; better he assist others so they might do what he could not.

Excitement hastened them to the Akadaemia; Lahabrea led the way to the secure wing where this creature—Archaeotania, he said it had been dubbed—was to be kept. In the elder Convocation member's company none challenged his presence or insisted he provide proper documentation to enter, and they made good time to their destination.

Their steps slowed as one as they rounded a corner and came in sight of the beast. It was huge, dark and squat with twisted horns and a massive toothy maw. Elidibus swallowed, his eyes tracing the bars and panes, the field of energy that enclosed it. Even more reassuring to him, though, was the figure of Azem standing before it, arms crossed and stance broad. He had subdued it and brought it here; even if it were to break free, it would not get far. In that knowledge Elidibus could rest secure. Beside him, a low mutter from Lahabrea drew his head around. By the surprise in his voice and posture, he was as taken aback by its scale as Elidibus. He shot the speaker a wry grin.

"He had to pick the biggest one he could find, it would seem."

"Ha! How very typical. But I cannot find it in me to complain. This is just the sort of test subject I need."

"Indeed? That is well, then."

Their pace resumed, the distance shrinking as they approached the massive containment. "The more powerful the specimen, the better I'll be able to examine its aetherial signature and study it for oddities. In this, Azem's inclination to go overboard is a boon to my work." His voice dropped to a grumble. "Assuming we can keep it contained, that is."

Azem turned at their approach, a grin breaking free on seeing them. "Lahabrea, Elidibus! What do you think?”

Smiling at Lahabrea’s “hmph,” Elidibus said, “It’s a fair bit larger than I expected. Are all the Sound’s twisted creations on this scale?”

“Nay,” Azem said, growing serious. “Lahabrea indicated that a strong one would be most useful for his studies, so I sought out one of the strongest I knew of.” A flash of teeth, bright against dark skin. “If that means it can no longer terrorize the land, so much the better.”

“Just so,” murmured Elidibus. The beast opened its massive maw, and a faint roar, muffled nearly to silence, reverberated through the glass. Elidibus flinched as it brought one massive limb crashing against its prison; the force field enclosing it held with no sign of strain.

Azem smiled, a curl of satisfaction. “Excellent. It looks like the protections are holding well.”

“Has it tried out its cage thoroughly yet?”

Elidibus turned to look at Lahabrea. The speaker’s gaze roved over the creature, devouring every detail. Azem turned as well, gesturing as he did.

“That was the first thing it did on regaining consciousness. It has settled down, though as you can see it still gives the occasional prod or poke. Have no fear; I’ll remain until I’m satisfied it won’t get free.”

“My thanks. I should like to begin study right away. Would you start by telling me everything you’ve observed about it? Its origin, if known, what sorts of attacks or magicks it utilizes…”

Listening to the conversation with half an ear, Elidibus stepped closer to the cage. Archaeotania paced its confines—not that it was a small area by any means, but the beast was so  _ big _ it made it seem so. His heart fluttered, nerves flaring at the monstrosity’s proximity even though he trusted the cage would hold. And Azem was right there… nonetheless, it was an intimidating beast.

It stopped in its back-and-forth motion, lowering its body, craning its head downward. Was it looking at him? One strange eye narrowed, squinting. His heart beat faster, but he steeled his nerves, holding his ground. He returned the favor, scrutinizing the twisted creation back. There was something odd about its eyes, he decided, some strange glint. Intelligence?

Surely not.

He caught himself, reminding himself that unfounded assumptions had no place in academia. He would do best, instead, to observe what there was to see, to form theories based on those observations and test them. Well, to have others test them, more likely, but as he had exhorted his comrades, more points of view meant more details caught and understood. And so he peered beyond the physical, opening his sight to the aetherial as well.

That glow… He recoiled, now, faltering a step back, another. Heedless of the conversation still going back and forth behind him, he blurted, “A soul? How?”

The conversation fell silent, Azem appearing at his side a moment later. “What are you talking about?”

Elidibus waved at Archaeotania. “It seems to have a soul. Though I use the term loosely… it does not appear  _ right. _ But there is  _ something _ there.”

Lahabrea, too, hove into view, frowning. “Are you sure?”

Elidibus raised his hands helplessly. “This is not my area of expertise. But as I said, I am confident I can see something. If it is not a soul, it is much like it.”

For a moment longer they all stared, then Azem drew an abrupt breath. “Right. Let me call in our resident expert, then.” He strode a few paces away, one hand rising to his ear. For several seconds Lahabrea stood beside him, scarcely breathing, so intently he watched Archaeotania. The beast continued to watch back, and with its strange eyes Elidibus could not tell which of them it was looking at. Perhaps its strangely glowing gaze shifted imperceptibly between them?

Azem began to speak, voice low, and Lahabrea shook himself from the reverie that had gripped him. "Fascinating," he murmured. "I am keen to know what Emet-Selch might have to say about this." He turned to Elidibus. "My thanks to you for spotting this anomaly. I had merely thought you would be interested to see this remarkable creature. Little did I know you would be providing insight into it so quickly."

Elidibus had to chuckle at that. "Nor I. In this, my natural curiosity served me well." He turned once more to look at the beast. His sight was nowhere near the level of Emet-Selch's; no precise hues of color offered themselves to his perception. But all the same he knew what souls looked like—bright and pulsing with life and hints of color, with cores so brilliant he could scarcely look directly upon them. The glimpses he had managed into the Underworld showed them dimmer, attenuated such that they but seemed as nigh-colorless flames dancing through a dark sea.

This was not dim, per se. Whatever it was gloamed with strength, pulsing with that quality that he would describe as "life." But it was not exactly bright in the way he attributed to souls, either. In truth, he did not know what to make of it. Souls were not his area of study, and while he had dutifully developed his vision as he would any skill, he used it but rarely. He did not have much experience to draw from. But, he reminded himself, he had done his part in spotting the phenomenon. Emet-Selch would take over at this juncture, bringing his wealth of knowledge and his particular gifts to bear.

Still, though, he found himself wishing he might do more. Any insight could prove to be crucial to their mission. Plus he wanted to prove his worth to the Convocation. If this creature had a soul, then perhaps his gift might prove useful after all. He let his eyes fall half-closed, focusing his mind and clearing his thoughts. Fixing curiosity and a sense of openness foremost in his mind, he reached out.

What he touched was horror, anathema. He recoiled, stumbling back, desperately severing the connection as he doubled over. He retched and heaved; Lahabrea, still beside him, caught and supported him before he could collapse to his knees. The speaker's voice sounded dimly in his ringing ears.

"Elidibus! Are you all right? What has happened?"

He shook his head, unable to form words, struggling to express himself. He reached back blindly, grasping at Lahabrea's shoulder for stability. His body continued to tremble, but the heaves began to peter out. Strong arms supported him on his other side as Azem joined them.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Azem's calm voice helped to cut through the agony that sought to drown him. He managed a nod, got a squeeze in response.

"Good. Just focus on breathing. We've got you."

For a long moment he did just that, training his attention on the warmth of the bodies close beside his own, the soft murmurs as they spoke in concerned tones. When they walked him to a bench he did his best to help, sinking down gratefully onto the support. Slowly he returned to himself, looking up to find them yet hovering anxiously. He managed a smile.

"I am all right. Thank you."

Lahabrea hesitated a moment longer, clucking over him, before finally returning to Archaeotania to resume his study of the creature. Azem, though, took a seat beside him.

"What happened there?"

"I tried to use my gift on the creature." Within he braced himself against the censure that would surely come in response. But Azem only tipped his head to look more intently at him.

"You are referring to your ability to read and connect souls via emotion, yes?"

Elidibus nodded. "The reaction was immediate. The instant I forged the connection I felt extremely ill. It was… anathema, somehow. Inimicable." A shudder rocked him at the memory.

"Nothing like that has ever happened before, I take it?"

"Not even remotely. The worst I've experienced might be a sour feeling from someone who dislikes me or is angry." He sighed. "I suppose I should be sure that it was indeed something to do with Archaeotania and not simply something awry with my gift." The thought of using his power again filled him with reluctance and a feeling of dread.

"Good thinking." Azem gave him a smile. "Go ahead." He gestured to himself, making his intent plain, but still Elidibus found himself hesitating. Azem noticed. "It's all right. I'm sure it feels like a betrayal. Like a part of yourself suddenly turned against you."

Elidibus nodded, unable to speak. He had expected… well, he wasn't sure, but not that. For Azem to understand, so deeply and so quickly… He took a deep breath.

"There's no rush. Take your time." Azem's voice was warm, kind. He put a hand on Elidibus's shoulder, gave him a light squeeze.

A few more breaths mustered his strength, and he reached tentatively out. Connecting with Azem was nothing like what he had just undergone. Instead of an assault, it was a gentle ray of sunlight. Concern and warmth touched him, plain care and affection radiating forth. With a relieved sigh he released the power.

"All seems to be in order. Whatever occurred with Archaeotania appears to be particular to the creature alone."

"Hmm. Surely that means something, then."

"I agree." Elidibus smiled. "If you ever happen to capture a less powerful specimen, pray inform me. It would be best to confirm whether the phenomenon applies to all such twisted creatures. And," a wry grimace, "I should hope the effect might be less overwhelming with a less powerful entity."

"That should pose no trouble." The approach of footsteps pulled their attention down the hall in time to see Emet-Selch turn the corner. Elidibus hid a smile at his faltering steps and surprised gape, recalling his own reaction to the sight before them. Azem stood with one last squeeze to his shoulder, moving to meet his friend partway. They came forward in tandem, heads together as they discussed something in low voices—no doubt the fearsome beast before them and the situation that called for Emet-Selch's knowledge.

The lingering memory of the pain he had just experienced drove Elidibus to his feet, and he joined them as they came to a stop. Emet-Selch gave him a curious look, but Azem left off their conversation.

"What is it?"

Elidibus turned his focus to Emet-Selch. "A warning, if I may. While I did not experience any particular discomfort from the sight of this creature beyond the misgivings its strange soul awoke, using my powers on it was a… singularly unpleasant experience. I cannot say if your own experience will be in any way analogous, but I would prefer you be forewarned, just in case."

Emet-Selch shot Azem a bemused look before focusing his attention upon Elidibus. “My thanks for the warning. I shall be sure to use care in my endeavors.” For a moment the senior Convocation member stared, seeming nonplussed, but Azem’s hand upon his elbow pulled him out of it. Together they turned once more to the beast.

Elidibus watched Emet-Selch closely, spurred by a combination of curiosity and concern. It was plain when he saw what Elidibus had noticed, for he too drew back in visible surprise. No indication of the nauseating pain he had felt from his gift; a tension he hadn't realized had drawn him tight released within him.

"Most unusual…" Emet-Selch paced a few steps first to one side, then the other, looking the beast over. "By our definitions it does indeed appear to be a soul, though there is something very odd about it. I would call it sickly, but… it appears to be simply  _ different. _ How might a soul have come to be trapped…" He trailed into thoughtful silence, crossing his arms over his chest.

A trapped soul? Elidibus had heard tell of such a thing, though it was supposed to be beyond rare. Although with all the death caused by these eruptions, the likelihood that those so twisted would pass on in pain and regret… it was not so unimaginable. For a moment he closed his eyes, whispering a prayer deep in his heart—that those lost to this tragedy would find peace, that they would be able to move on, and that the Convocation would quickly get to the bottom of this terrible event’s cause and heal it. Opening his eyes once more, he trained his sight upon the strange soul.

“I have never had the opportunity to see such a thing before.”

Emet-Selch’s head came about abruptly, those eyes, glowing with power, lighting upon him. “I have dealt with it on a handful of occasions. But… I am forced to conclude that is not the case here. See, there, how the soul suffuses the form? If it had merely taken up residence it would be concentrated at its core.” Beneath the mask, his lips tightened in plain displeasure. “As unusual as it is, the soul appears to be natural—intrinsic to the form.”

“How?” Elidibus marveled. “It is a creation, is it not?”

“Yes,” Azem confirmed, his voice sober.

For a moment Elidibus and Emet-Selch simply stared at one another. The moment was broken by Emet-Selch’s exasperated sigh. He slumped, gesturing in irritation as he turned back. “This is a thing beyond my experience—though given that a creation cannot be made with a soul, it is not terribly surprising that this thing’s seems somehow  _ wrong. _ Something is most certainly afoot, though.” He turned abruptly to Azem. “I need more subjects. Strong, weak, doesn’t matter. I need to see more examples.”

* * *

Those eyes, the green glow, pierced into Azem, and he found himself nodding almost hypnotically. “Of course. It will be a simple enough matter to procure more. In truth, I already intended to do so for both Lahabrea and Elidibus.” He smiled. “Soon enough we shall wind up with a menagerie, I fear.”

The others turned their attention back to the beast after a round of thanks and gentle ribbing, but something about the way Emet-Selch’s eyes had glowed into his, the power, stirred memory. All at once he was again back—well, technically, forward—in time, in a future he prayed he could prevent.

The eyes haunted him, haunted his dreams. A bright and piercing red—and with his, Azem's, knowledge, he recognized it as the glow of power in use, of a gift in action—but unnatural, not only artificial but born of cruelty, of suffering. The uncanny pattern they bore was proof positive of that.

Seeing memory with his particular gift was not always a blessing. Teeth bared in a fell grin gleamed eerily in the dim and odd lighting, shadow dominating the scene. And the wings… He shuddered. It was like a twisted and warped vision of Emet-Selch's own power when he drew upon the Underworld—but where the souls would flock to crowd behind him, to bear him up and empower him to do great deeds, these souls were  _ chained. _ Something bound them to skeletal frames, wringing from them by force what should only have been given freely. Trapping them in an artificial hell.

The memory of being so newly joined to this god, even as a sundered fraction still so powerful… to feel so helpless was terrifying. With his soul's fragment They had the knowledge and wisdom not to engage, to turn Their energies to escape, to evasion.

Even so it had nearly not been enough.

Zodiark's strongest protections, peeled back layer by layer by this remorseless killer who craved His—Their—power. Together They worked desperately, time turned against He who should be its master by the desperate situation. To catapult Themselves so far back in time… They would only have one chance, and They  _ had _ to get it right. Everything depended upon it.

Yet neither could They allow this monster to lay its hands upon Them. Even with all Their might, victory was nowhere near assured. As the last protection began to falter, the core drew upon memory, shared it with Them—a concealing hood, a flash of royal red eyes, flesh turned crystal. To go earlier was better than later; then They need but endure until They might find Their goal.

As the spell took Them, as reality faded to chaos, the sight of those eyes, that snarl of fury, those  _ wings _ lingered, pursuing Them back through the aeons.

Shuddering a deep breath, Azem finally pulled free of the memory. It had been haunting his nightmares of late, scenarios of failure, where They did not escape, where They were stricken down and consumed. Where They were seduced by that might and turned to bestial and base cruelties at its side.

The memory that by some turn of fortune Emet-Selch had been this creature's great-grandsire struck abrupt horror through him. Suddenly the power, the framework of it, and the sight it had shown made a horrid kind of sense. His eyes turned of their own accord to find his dear friend, his closest comrade, where he spoke with Lahabrea.

This future  _ must not _ come to pass.


	4. Chapter 4

Elidibus glanced up at the rap upon the door. “Enter.” His inquisitive gaze nigh faltered at the sight of Azem. A puzzled smile crossed those lips at the sight of the emissary at the speaker’s desk.

“I take it Lahabrea is still busied with Archaeotania?”

Mastering himself, Elidibus managed a smile. “Just so. If you must needs speak with him directly, I can of course arrange it… though please bear in mind it may take some hours.” Indeed, Lahabrea’s studies seemed to be proceeding quite well, which had the inevitable side effect of making it difficult to extricate him from them.

But Azem waved a hand, plainly unconcerned. “No doubt he’ll be made aware soon enough. I’ve come with a number of creatures to add to the menagerie.” He grinned, bright. One hand dipped into a pouch and pulled free a crystal, of the sort used to store small volumes of information. This he set on the desk, sliding it with a flick to Elidibus. “Perhaps if you’re not too busy at the moment, you can take a moment to oversee their installation. I know you wanted to have a look at some weaker specimens, no?”

Elidibus paused, fingers resting on the crystal. As much as he would dearly love to… "I'm afraid I have another appointment. In fact, I had expected him just now rather than yourself."

Azem cocked his head. "Someone I know?"

Elidibus could not hide a smile at his unabashed curiosity. "I should hope so." The temptation to tease Azem with the information rose, and he pushed it aside. "Halmarut returned recently from his expedition. He should be by to make his preliminary report at any moment."

Azem smiled. Perhaps Elidibus gave himself too much credit, but he liked to think he knew Azem's smiles well by now. This one was well pleased, bearing a hint of mischief… not _quite_ dangerous, but he would wager that Azem had just conceived of some troublesome idea. Before he could put voice to whatever brimmed in his grin, another knock sounded upon the door.

"Enter," he said, shooting Azem a stern glance. Not that it was likely to quell him, not by the way that smile broadened as he stepped to the side, dropping into a chair to make way for Halmarut as he came in. For his part, the botanist spared him no more than a curious glance and polite nod before turning his attention upon Elidibus.

“I have completed preliminary surveys of the vegetation in areas affected by the Sound. Operations to continue monitoring and collecting samples are in place, but I have enough now to begin in-depth analysis, dissection, and the like. I shall of course inform the Convocation of any significant developments, but my initial findings were themselves noteworthy."

Elidibus's brows drew together. The normally dour man was uncharacteristically animated, hands waving as he launched into his report. Azem noticed it too, leaning forward to watch more intently.

"The vegetation at the sites of these eruptions is indeed twisted—strangely altered. But it is not random. Comparison across multiple sites—even at a significant distance from one another—reveals consistent trends in the types of fauna created by the process. That is to say, instead of mutating along random genetic pathways, as one would expect, as we had assumed, they follow one of a number of consistent paths."

"Forgive me," Elidibus interjected, brow creasing further, "but that seems somehow to imply a design to this twisting, does it not?”

Halmarut gave a solemn nod. “Though it be premature to draw such conclusions, I suspect that my in-depth analysis will reveal these different strains to be of related descent, of common ancestry. Subtle cues of appearance, as well as a particular hue of bioluminescent glow, give me this impression. Soon enough we will see if the evidence bears it out.”

From the side Azem spoke. “In truth, this seems like the sort of thing where words fail to do proper justice. If it is not too much trouble, I should like to see these similarities for myself.”

At this Halmarut turned a smile upon him. “It would be no trouble at all. And I must agree that there is no substitute for seeing it firsthand."

Now Azem caught Elidibus's gaze. "Will you be joining us, then? Surely it will provide a valuable supplement to the report."

So that's how it was to be. Elidibus tried to suppress his smile. "I suppose I had better. It does sound fascinating, I confess."

Azem clapped his hands together with a grin. "Wonderful!" Rising, he gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

It was but a few minutes’ walk to reach the Akadaemia, and a few more to make their way through the Words of Halmarut to the recently secured area. Even to Elidibus’s untrained eye, the particular bluish glow of the vegetation was blatant—especially in the lighting, dimmed for observation. Elidibus found himself staring, stomach hollowing as Halmarut launched into an explanation of the less obvious commonalities. The plants were of varied types, though markedly different from most fauna that flourished in the areas where they had been retrieved—odd mushrooms and thick-petaled flowers, strangely gnarled tree-like plants. Nothing like the lush vegetation and brightly mottled leaves of the tropical area in which they had appeared.

They left Halmarut to begin his experiments, and Elidibus let Azem coax him to swing by the Words of Lahabrea. He could not manage to hide his smile at Azem’s somewhat clumsy attempts at subtlety, warmed by the consideration the other offered his sense of duty. Azem noticed, of course, giving him an askance look.

“Is something funny?”

He couldn’t help himself; his smile broadened. “What do you mean?”

“You're smiling.”

Elidibus gave a graceful shrug. “You were right. It was far better to see the plants in person than to simply hear tell of them.”

Azem grinned in response. "I'm glad you think so." His gaze lingered on Elidibus, the smile fading. "But I think I know you better than that by now. You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Elidibus felt his brow furrow.

"One of your politic non-answers. You make a statement that doesn't truly answer the question, leaving the listener to assume it does."

For a moment he stared at Azem, lips parted, then mirth bubbled up, curving his mouth into a smile, making his shoulders shake in silent laugher. "I see I have been found out." He mastered himself in the face of Azem's plain satisfaction, the smile lingering as he began walking once more. "I knew you were up to something the moment you grinned so abruptly back in the office. I realized your likely intent when you asked Halmarut to show you his samples. As such, I could not help but find your earnest endeavors to coax me into seeing the new specimens you captured as amusing. I had already made my decision before we set out."

Azem laughed at that, a bright and carefree sound. Together they continued in silence, comfortable. For his part, Elidibus found his thoughts returning to Azem's comment.

"How did you know I wasn't directly answering your question, anyway?"

Wry amusement turned Azem's lips. "I have come to realize that there is little I can slip past you. I questioned all along whether you knew my intent or no. But that particular artful shrug gave it away. You have a habit of using it in similar situations."

Elidibus frowned at Azem, found him grinning. He would have to become more aware of his tells, it seemed. He set the thought aside for later as they reached their destination.

A wild variety of creatures awaited them, ranging in size from barely up to his knee to several times his height, though Archaeotania still dwarfed them all. With Azem's assistance he located one of the weakest ones to try his power on. The odd thing was quadrupedal, with a sleek, streamlined body and leathery wings sprouting from its shoulders. Its beady eyes burned with hate as it clawed and bit at its cage.

Elidibus settled to the floor in front of it, a precautionary measure. He did not particularly want to risk falling over again, even with Azem hovering protectively at his side. Once more he peered first into the aetherial realm. Like Archaeotania, this thing pulsed with a sickly not-quite light, and a glance about showed all the creatures to have similar "souls," though with a variety of different subjects to compare he could see that their relative densities varied, much like ordinary living creatures. He also thought he saw faint variance in the coloration. No doubt Emet-Selch would be able to discern more, he thought, and returned his attention to the creature before him.

"I'm going to begin now," he said. Azem shifted beside him with a rustle of robes, and he took a deep breath, bracing himself. Gingerly he reached out to touch the creature’s soul.

Once more, the reaction was immediate and horrible. Gasping for breath, tears half-blinding him, he released the connection. He waved off Azem’s worried hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

A few blinks cleared his eyes to see Azem kneeling down to his level. “It happened again, I take it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “though the effect was much milder this time. A strong unpleasantness, but I do not believe I would have fallen like before.”

This seemed to satisfy Azem; he stepped back, leaving him room to come to his feet. Elidibus brushed his robes off, frowning thoughtfully at the beast.

“That’s good, I think," Azem said, the words turning Elidibus's worries aside for the moment. "Not that there is this reaction, of course, but that it was largely Archaeotania’s strength that made you so ill. Hm…”

Elidibus turned his gaze to Azem, finding him lost in thought. Worry twirled about him, though it faded quickly, replaced by an inquisitive air. Plainly he, too, was trying to puzzle out what it might mean.

“I find myself agreeing. At the least, I was able to gather more of an impression from it, since it was much less overwhelming. It seemed like it sought to corrupt, or perhaps it was more akin to an invader, and the illness a sort of immune response.”

“An interesting observation. I shall have to see what Emet-Selch has to add about these creatures. I will, of course, keep you apprised of his findings.”

“What,” Elidibus grumbled, “can he not make his own reports?”

This startled a laugh out of Azem. “He and I have been working together closely on these creatures. At this point I’m accustomed to doing the paperwork.”

"I had noticed," Elidibus shot back. A sigh softened his ire. “I suppose that, so long as the information is conveyed in a comprehensible and timely fashion it matters little.” Together they made their way back toward and then through the Words of Halmarut. Passing through the Words of Mitron on the way to the exit, though, Elidibus slowed upon seeing Mitron and Loghrif standing at the mouth of a corridor, heads together. He hadn't realized Mitron had returned.

Azem noticed the direction of his attention. "Looks serious." At Elidibus's querying glance, he clarified, "Whatever it is they're discussing. Let's go find out." Before Elidibus could protest he strode off toward the pair.

Mitron scowled at his approach, the expression gentling as her gaze fell on Elidibus, hastening after Azem. Loghrif greeted their arrival with a raised hand.

"Azem, Elidibus. What brings you to the Akadaemia?"

Elidibus beat Azem to the punch. "We came to see Halmarut's findings in person. The flora he brought back is most peculiar. I look forward to seeing the results of his current tests. But what of your own findings?"

Loghrif shot Mitron a look but said nothing. Mitron sighed.

"I haven't finished with my report, but my own findings were surprising as well. I'll have the information on your desk in a day or so, but…" She spread her hands. "I believe this began rather before we originally projected."

"What do you mean?" Azem sounded bemused. "Before the first attacks I investigated last year?"

"Indeed. I discovered that these emanations are occurring beneath the ocean as well."

"I suppose that makes sense. The locations have shown no particular pattern beyond expanding clusters. But how can you tell?"

"At first, by observation of the coastline and shallows. There are relatively few coastal cities in the currently affected region, but by canvassing the shore and interviewing the local fishers we were able to not only locate the site of a previous eruption in the shallows, but also find evidence of Sound activity much deeper.

"But the real breakthrough came from showing the twisted and altered fish I captured to the local fishers. All of them related stories of catching similar fish, which they of course tossed back—as you'll see in the report, they are disturbing in appearance, aggressive in behavior, and smell utterly foul. No fisher would try to eat or sell them."

"Interesting," Azem murmured. "Too many anecdotes to ignore. And of course the oceans are vast and dark, difficult to explore safely, making it hard to gather concrete evidence."

"Just so. And though the time frame is imprecise as a result, more than one fisher has sworn they caught the first of these unusual fish nearly three years ago."

The air seemed to freeze in Elidibus's lungs for a moment. So long? And the phenomenon had gone unremarked until the land itself had been impacted since no one knew precisely what hid in the ocean's deepest reaches.

"Three years…" Azem whispered, sounding stunned. "And I never even realized."

"And how could you?" Mitron's gravelly tones were uncharacteristically gentle. "Even those of us exploring the depths know only that there are many odd life forms there where sunlight never reaches. That some might not be natural never occurred to us."

Loghrif laid a gentle hand on Mitron's arm. "This realization, the knowledge that the strange twisting likely began deep in the ocean, got me to thinking. I have begun scouring early reports and mapping known eruptions, comparing their elevations. It is too soon to declare it conclusive, but the initial findings seem to indicate that it begins in the lowlands and coastal areas, progressively moving upward in elevation as well as expanding outward."

For a moment a chilled silence ruled the group. Azem stirred, breaking the spell.

"This is indeed worrisome, but it may give us the key to accurately predict its expansion. That will save lives."

Mitron gave a grave nod. "It will. We will send in our combined findings and analysis as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Elidibus said, offering them a brief bow. "This may well prove to be one of the crucial keys to unraveling the mystery of the Sound." They exchanged goodbyes, Azem and he leaving them to their discussion.

Elidibus found his pace slow, his thoughts heavy, as he pondered this new information. Azem, as well, was uncharacteristically quiet. They made their way back to the capitol building, to the office of the speaker.

"Are you all right?" Azem's silence was beginning to worry Elidibus.

A smile, small and preoccupied, did little to reassure him. "Yes. I find it disturbing to learn it began long before I realized. But it again makes me grateful to you. Were it not for your encouragement, there is no guarantee we would have discovered this. Now we may begin, it seems, by watching the depths." Again Elidibus detected worry, although it could have been nothing more than this new revelation. After a moment Azem shook himself, taking a deep breath. "With this in mind, I think I'll take a tour of the coast. I have friends among the fisherfolk. If they haven't already seen these twisted fish they likely will soon, and I want to know about it. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say."

Elidibus smiled. "A good idea. I look forward to hearing what you find."

With a jaunty wave, Azem departed, and Elidibus turned back to his reports.

* * *

Memory. Precious, vital, but prone to fading. To alteration, twisting away from horror, or toward fondness.

Memory was what made men who they were. Were they not, Azem mused, the sum of their experiences, their choices—both good and ill—and their understanding of the world? Memory informed every word and action they took.

The subject had been much on his mind of late, for reasons he found obvious yet no less important for it. For knowledge was of utmost value, a treasure beyond compare. A gift, in his case, one he had only accessed a portion of. But it was a tricky thing; too much too fast and his mind might perceive it as a danger and reject it.

But he had not yet found any key to remedying this Sound. And so he continued to press onward as fast as he dared. Meditating upon the subject seemed to help, and so he did.

Finally memory unfolded, like a new leaf unfurling, turning toward the sun. He remembered…

He remembered marveling at a world so like what he had known yet so different. The soft rustling of his feathers whispered as their memories resonated; his distal vestiges knew this world. But there was so little left…

He spent a long time—perhaps, he began to fear, too long—searching through the remaining fragments of memory for the knowledge that would lead him to his goal. But though it seemed to tantalize him, just out of reach, he could not grasp it solidly. Finally he resigned himself to wandering, spreading wide his memory-shade-feathers to feel the slightest tugs of remembrance like wind upon them. He drifted upon these currents, and drifted, and drifted. 

But, he knew with all his being, he would recognize his goal the moment he should encounter it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the revelations of the end of Eden I have opted to update Mitron and Loghrif's pronouns to fit the new lore. Fortunately this doesn't really change their dynamic or anything!


	5. Chapter 5

"No matter how I run the numbers, the conclusion is the same." Lahabrea paced the length of the office, his hood rumpled and partially askew from running his hands through his hair and fussing with his mask. "The growth has to be exponential. The linear models just don't fit."

For several long seconds Azem was still, pose thoughtful, so still that Elidibus began to wonder if he had heard, or understood. Finally he stirred.

"In that case, when should we expect the effect to reach Amaurot? How much longer do we have?"

Lahabrea sighed. "We don't know the precise factor, so we can only estimate. But it could be as early as three months from now.” He raised a hand before Azem could speak. “That is, of course, in the worst case. We may have as much as six or seven months.”

Azem shook his head. “Still. I had hoped for more.”

Elidibus stood, setting a hand on his shoulder. “As had we all, I think. And though this seems alarmingly sudden, I am not yet ready to give up hope. We have all been hard at work detangling the mysteries surrounding this phenomenon. I believe we must be close to a breakthrough."

Azem straightened at his encouragement. "This is true. I suppose it's just been difficult for me of late. I want to be out there fighting it. But it's just too big to fight."

"For now," Elidibus agreed. "But only for now." He smiled, catching Azem's eye. "If it turns out there is some simple or central cause, I shall do all in my power to see that you have an opportunity to punch it.”

This won him a bright-toothed smile. "You are most kind. Truly." The grin softened to something affectionate, making Elidibus's heart quicken its pace. "Thank you."

Pleased to see that Azem's mood seemed to be lightening, he turned to Lahabrea. "I thank you for this information. Unwelcome as it may be, it is better that we be aware of it. Ignorance ill suits us in our efforts to address and reverse this catastrophe."

"Of course. I will, as always, keep you abreast of developments and emergent situations as they arise.” With nods exchanged all around, Elidibus followed Azem out of the speaker’s office. The grand hall beyond bustled with hushed, purposeful activity, people striding hither and yon upon various errands while others stood in groups deep in discussion.

He saw Azem's hood turn as he took in the scene before them. Without hesitation he spun to head toward his own office. Elidibus paused before following, glancing about. He scarce had time to notice the odd hunch to Azem's shoulders when Mitron's mask turned into full view.

"Azem!"

Her gravelly tones carried through the hall, and Elidibus caught the edge of Azem's flinch in his periphery. For a moment he thought he might try to evade the other Convocation member, but with a low, incoherent groan he turned back. Mitron, as though worried Azem might disappear at any moment, stormed toward them.

"Azem, you missed today's committee meeting. Again."

Elidibus could practically _feel_ Azem's wince. "Ah. Right. My apologies, but I got wrapped up in interviews and errands, and it entirely slipped my mind."

Mitron heaved a sigh. "Azem. We have discussed this before. These committee meetings are essential to unraveling the mysteries surrounding this catastrophe. It would be irresponsible of us to proceed without your input."

"I know, I know." Frustration soured the air around Azem. "I truly am sorry. I just…" He waved his hands helplessly.

This did nothing to cool Mitron's anger; it began to build like a thunderhead. "You just _what,_ Azem? What is your excuse to be this time? It began to wear thin weeks ago. You cannot shirk your responsibilities like this. Too much rests upon it!"

Azem's hands clenched at his sides, his own ire rising. The almost staticky feeling of an impending clash filled the air between them. Elidibus felt his palms begin to sweat.

"If I may," he interrupted as smoothly as he could, "my own committee has a different focus than yours. I suspect our approach and methodology is different as well, tailored as it is to our members. Would you mind filling me in on your own committee's proceedings?"

As he had hoped, this headed off the impending argument. Mitron replied first.

"Well, as you know our committee's focus is primarily upon the scientific aspects of this crisis. As such, we collate analyses and studies with an aim toward addressing the scientific side of the issues that arise, as well as considering possible solutions based out of this same body of information."

_Scientific?_ Elidibus's brow furrowed behind his mask as he glanced at Azem. No disrespect to him—he held the shepherd in high regard—but scientific he was not. Why had he been placed upon that particular committee? Had they simply needed another person to fill it out?

"Which is why I disagree as to the essential nature of my presence. To be frank, I find myself with little to nothing I can add to any given discussion. I end up wasting not only my time, but that of the rest of the committee."

"Insult your own intelligence if you must, but do not insult ours. Your insights are more necessary than you wish to accept. Furthermore, your vote has proven the deciding one on more than one occasion."

"Yes," came the somewhat heated response, "and what right have I to make such a determination when I'm simply not confident in my own understanding all too often?"

Again Elidibus spoke into the brief gap between them. "I confess I do not understand precisely why Azem was selected for this particular committee. I suspect this may be a contributor to his reticence to participate."

For a moment Mitron seemed to have been stricken dumb. "W-well, I suppose I can see how he might feel that way. Which makes it all the more frustrating that he refuses to accept what he does have to offer."

"To what precisely do you refer?" Elidibus was beginning to see the shape of the issue; Azem felt his contributions were not worthwhile. But he would need to hear—and, more to the point, believe—it from Mitron herself.

"Nothing," Azem said softly, bitterness dropping from the words. "I have nothing of value to offer at that table. No scientific knowledge, no experience with procedure or painstaking research. My presence but slows down the proceedings, forcing you to explain things in lay terms."

Queasiness rolled over Elidibus, a wave of nausea, rising. Catching back a choke, he breathed deeply, fighting past it, praying it would recede. Fortunately his compatriots took no notice.

"Azem…" The harsh lines of Mitron's scowl had disappeared. She laid a hand on the shepherd's arm. "We do not expect you to have all this knowledge. In fact, it is well that you don't. Far too often do we get caught up in concepts, in lofty ideas and ideals. In this you are as an anchor to us, keeping us grounded and ensuring we do not forget the perspective of the common citizen."

To Elidibus's relief, the discomfort faded, freeing the knot binding his core. One last deep breath dispelled the tightness, and he returned his full attention to the conversation.

"Not only that, but your travels, your knowledge of the customs and wishes of people all about our world, are just as invaluable. You bring a wide perspective to our narrow focus. And since it seems we carry the task of the salvation of our entire star, such a perspective is paramount. What would it avail us to devise a plan only for the rest of the world to denounce it as narrow-minded or flawed, only good for our own fair city?"

For long seconds Azem stood silent, his full lips parted in a startled gape. "Oh," he said at length. "Oh, I see. My apologies. It seems I entirely misunderstood my role." He shifted his feet, straightening his shoulders as he took a new stance. "You may rest assured that I will make every effort not to miss future sessions."

Mitron gave him a searching look, ending it with a firm nod. "Please do. Surely I need not remind you that the fate of the star might well rest in our hands." With one last reproachful glance, she departed.

Azem turned back to Elidibus with a somewhat sheepish smile. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Elidibus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You seemed out of sorts just a bit ago. Is everything well?"

Ah, right. Elidibus had already dismissed the fit, but it seemed Azem was more observant than he had realized. "Just a momentary bout of nausea," Elidibus assured him. "Nothing to be concerned about. Most likely something I ate didn't agree with me."

Azem nodded, letting the matter drop. "Thank you for helping to smooth over matters with Mitron there. It never fails to impress me how quickly you cut to the heart of such things."

Elidibus smiled. "There is no need to thank me. I would do the same for any of you. All I really do is listen carefully, after all."

Azem shook his head. "So you say. Yet no one does it with as much skill as you. I find myself in your debt."

At this Elidibus gave him a measured look. "If I do not take you to task for keeping secrets from me, then you need not fear I will collect on small favors. I am but performing my function for the Convocation."

"Ha!" Startlement and good humor prompted a sharp outburst from Azem. "And here I thought I had managed to slip something by you. How long have you known?"

"I began to suspect when you immediately opposed Lahabrea's plan without really hearing it through. But I wasn't sure until you told me you couldn't really explain why his proposed plan filled you with dread."

"So long ago." Surprise tinged Azem's tone. "And yet, you have stood by me, aided me without a word of complaint, all this while?"

Elidibus smiled. "I trust you."

To that, it seemed Azem had no ready response. They continued in pensive silence to his office. Elidibus gave a polite nod before turning for his own office, but Azem's voice pulled his head around.

“Won’t you come in? Take your ease for a few minutes?”

Elidibus paused, his eyes falling over Azem standing in the doorway of his office. His pose was open, inviting, one hand indicating the chairs just out of sight. The faint smile tugged at Elidibus's heart, and his eyes fell lower, drawn by lines of fabric to a hip revealed, outlined in cloth.

"Much as I would love to linger, I fear duty calls. My own committee convenes this afternoon, and I have preparations to make before we meet."

"A shame. I find myself resenting this crisis all the more, for atop everything else it scarce leaves you a moment for leisure or rest."

Elidibus chuckled at the playful half-jest, the tightness in his chest easing a few degrees. It was a pleasant thought, the idea that someday this crisis would be behind them, and he might steal away and hour or three to enjoy Azem's company without being consumed by anxiety and guilt. Yes, this future, this hope, was what they strove for, fought for. In the end, it would be worthwhile.

On an impulse, he stepped forward and took Azem's hand in his own. "It is a shame, indeed. Let us have done with this crisis so that all affected by it may once again know peace." He painted a smile over fluttering nerves, releasing Azem and stepping back. "For now, pray excuse me to make my preparations. We will meet again soon, I am certain." Afraid to look too closely at the surprised look and nod he received in response, he retreated toward his own office.

* * *

_I trust you._

The words reverberated through Azem's mind, circling back again and again to haunt him. He fiddled idly with a chunk of crystal, reports lying forgotten on his desk as he chased the words about his mind, searching for some deeper meaning, for some trick or trap or snare. Elidibus's delivery had been calm, serene, confident. Genuine. He sighed.

Would that he had half so much faith in himself, he thought, a wry smile curving his lips. To think the emissary had known all along… Well. Knowing he held a secret was quite different from knowing what the secret was. But then, the main reason he had kept it to himself was because it was too incredible—no one would fully believe him were he to tell them.

He had, it seemed, underestimated Elidibus's talent. If the young Convocation member had sensed he was concealing information, then surely he could also determine that Azem was telling the truth when he spun his fantastic tale. The knowledge he carried was a heavy burden, the thought of sharing its weight undeniably tempting. Perhaps the time had come to tell someone else what he knew.

Of course, there was the issue of this Zodiark, the primal the Convocation had created. Elidibus had served as the construct's core, his life sacrificed along with so many others to create this dark savior. The thought, the _memory_ struck horror into Azem's breast. What if all their attempts at a solution should fail, leaving them with no other option than to repeat the partial solution he so sought to avoid? He could not bear the idea of Elidibus being once again sacrificed just to save a handful of their people.

No, better that Elidibus did not know about that. He was too young, too eager to help, to do his part. Too willing to sacrifice of himself. He would step forward without hesitation, and be lost again. Azem couldn't bear for that to happen. His burden was heavy enough already.

As for the rest, though, he realized it would be wise to ensure that another knew what he had learned. After all, if… _when_ the Sound reached the vicinity of Amaurot he intended to fight it back with his all. If something were to happen to him, it would be best that someone else held this knowledge. And Elidibus's empathic gift made fighting nigh impossible for him, so he would be safe for as long as anyone could be.

Indeed, he could think of none better to share the burden of these memories.

Vividly he remembered how it had happened—the strange tug, one he could not resist, had no _will_ to resist, pulling him from the small hamlet he had just finished aiding to a bleak area of the coast. His first impression was that no one could live in such a desolate area…

The recollection brought a smile, weak in humor, to his face. What he had found was not truly alive, after all. He remembered marveling at the faint gleam of what could only be a soul—impossible, he had thought, he had not the skill to see such a thing. But there it was nonetheless, vanishingly faint, bare cinders of the soul left, and yet…

And yet.

Of course he could never fail to recognize his own soul, even burned down to a breath of smoke, even spread abnormally thin, somehow damaged. Even without the magnetic tug toward it from behind his navel.

The specter raised its eyes to his, and Azem marveled to see his own face bared, his own form garbed in the memories of strange raiments.

"We found you." Spectral tears gathered in those eyes, so like his own. "I can hardly believe it… We did it." He bowed his head, raising a hand to his heart. "Thank You…"

Shaking free of the memory, Azem trained his attention onto the reports before him. He must not squander the opportunity given him.


	6. Chapter 6

Elidibus focused on his breathing, trying not to sway noticeably. The meeting was almost over; this fact he clung to. He could hold out a little longer. No doubt a nap would set him to rights once more.

The elementals had been restless again last night—in truth, _restless_ didn't suffice to explain it. They had been _agitated._ Between that and the low-grade headache he had, Elidibus feared he was not discharging his duties as well as he ought. Perhaps it was this which drove him to stand, to await the chair's invitation to speak, to be the first voice to respond to Venat after her presentation of the newly-created devices which would protect them against the Sound. That, and the fact that already he could feel others coming to the same decision he had, the faint sparks of _alignment_ to some of his peers.

Lahabrea concluded his speech of thanks to Venat, then recognized him with a graceful gesture. "Elidibus?"

A quick, shallow breath helped push his discomfort to the back of his mind. "Let me begin by adding my gratitude to that of our esteemed Speaker. Were it not for your tireless efforts, the knowledge and experience you brought to our fair city, we would not yet have any protection from the effects of this terrible Sound." Soft murmurs of assent rippled through the Convocation chamber. "As such, please do not be too surprised when I ask of you—give the protection you had intended for me to one with greater need."

At that, Venat raised her head, plainly startled. About him, though, he felt others among the Convocation fall into a harmony with his own intentions. "At the moment, the threat is yet remote. Elsewhere, though, others hide or flee for their lives, living in imminent danger of this catastrophe. Let one of these take it. There may come a day when the danger arrives within our walls. On that day I will sorrowfully accept one, with the full weight and knowledge that I have failed my charges. But until and unless that day arrives, I insist that you pass me over for those with greater need.”

Venat placed a hand to her chest and offered him a bow. A small smile had grown on her face as he spoke, and he fancied she seemed impressed by his speech. Offering a bow in return, he took his seat once more, fatigue draping over him as his weariness and discomfort surged back in the absence of distraction. It was heartening, though, to hear the others add their voices to his own, to see that the rest of the Convocation shared his concern for their constituents, their countrymen, their people.

In the end, each of them, even Azem, requested that they be passed over for now in favor of those in immediate danger. And while Elidibus could not help a momentary pang of worry for their Shepherd, he reminded himself to have faith—the other had much more experience with this phenomenon than the rest of them. As the session came to an end Elidibus held onto that, knowing that worry would only keep him from the rest he so needed. Finally he drew himself to his feet, again trying not to show his state as he made his way to the exit.

“Elidibus!”

Azem’s voice pulled him from his fugue, and, blinking, he turned. He stood near the podium with Venat, the latter biting her lip in plain concern. For a moment Elidibus debated waving him off; surely he would understand if he said he wasn’t feeling well and needed rest. But it might be important. Moreover, he realized, now he would have _that_ worry leaning on his mind and keeping him from truly relaxing. Unwilling to let the moment pass him by, he made his way to Azem's side. His headache swelled as if to protest the decision, nausea rising, and he breathed carefully, reaching deep for the strength to endure it.

"Won't you reconsider?" Venat's gentle voice was replete with worry. "Unlike the others, you are sure to wind up in the affected areas sooner rather than later. Were the worst to happen, I don't think I could forgive myself for not insisting you accept protection."

Azem gave a hearty laugh, laying one hand on Venat's shoulder. "Truly, I thank you for your concern. But my resolve is firm. I have no need of it, and I must insist one with greater need receives it in my stead."

Azem's stubbornness once his mind was set to something was legendary. This was likely Venat's first time encountering it, but she seemed to realize when she was outmatched. With a graceful dip of her head, she said, "Very well. Should you change your mind, or should any of your colleagues find they must head into danger, you know how to contact me. I would be overjoyed to assist."

"Of course. Go with our gratitude—protecting our people is a far more precious gift than you realize."

Elidibus managed a polite murmur and bow as she turned to leave, all he could muster through the pounding in his skull. Breathing carefully, he turned to Azem. At the Shepherd's gesture, they began to walk.

"I'm glad I caught you. I've been doing some thinking, and I've decided to tell you the secrets that were entrusted to me. If _you_ don't believe me, I figure no one will. Plus I trust you to be discreet either way. With your abilities I think I've got a chance. The best chance there is, really."

It was hard not to smile at Azem's pragmatism, especially with the quiet and uncertain hope that Elidibus sensed beneath it. "While there are no guarantees in life, I do not believe I will think you a liar. You have ever been a vocal champion of the truth before. Please put your mind at ease."

"Then you'll hear me out?"

The surprise-touched hope in Azem's voice gave Elidibus pause. Had he somehow given him reason to doubt? Or were the secrets he sought to divulge so incredible? "Of course," he said. He started, trying not to blush as the other man gave him a quick one-armed hug in response.

"Thank you. Let's go to my place, then, for some privacy. If that's all right?"

Elidibus nodded his agreement, and they made their way out of the Capitol building, into the bustling city, and to a tall housing complex. Elidibus had never seen where Azem lived before—few had, or so he gathered, since the Shepherd was not much for formal social events and was usually away on business besides. The apartment was modest, large windows shedding copious light onto shelves, displays, and tables laden with curios and mementos. It had an almost museum-like air—more a place to keep memories safe than a place to live.

"Make yourself comfortable," Azem said, waving back at where Elidibus stood still taking in the sight. After a moment Elidibus shook himself free of staring about and followed him into the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to stare instead at Azem, who was lining up bottles of alcohol on the counter. For a moment he just blinked, blindsided.

Azem glanced over and gave him a grin. "I'm sure it looks like a lot, but most of these are gifts that have just been gathering dust." Casting a suddenly critical gaze over the line, he selected a squat cut-crystal bottle full of amber liquid. He tipped a generous measure into a cup and recapped the bottle.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He waved at the bottles on display.

"Er—" Elidibus coughed, coming over to see what was available. "That's terribly kind of you, but I would hate to impose."

Azem gave him a secretive smile, tapping the side of the empty glass, partner to his own, still waiting on the counter. "Don't feel you need to hold back out of some misplaced sense of propriety." His smile turned crooked. "I have a feeling you're going to need a drink."

For a moment Elidibus scrutinized him. He couldn't help but fear that he might let something of his… _personal_ interest slip if he wasn't careful. But Azem seemed far more concerned with the tale he intended to tell… Well. One glass, carefully taken, would pose him no danger at all. "Very well." He considered trying the same liquor Azem had chosen—some kind of grain malt, he suspected—but settled instead on a red wine.

Glass in hand, he settled onto a loveseat, and Azem dragged around a plush chair. For a moment the shepherd was silent, gazing somewhere far away as he sipped at his drink. Yet another sign, Elidibus noted, of his difficulty in speaking of this matter. A deep sigh marked his attention's return as he focused once more on Elidibus.

“Where to start…”

Hoping to lighten the mood, Elidibus gave him a smile. “Often the beginning is considered ideal.”

This drew a warm chuckle from Azem. “I suppose so. Though as you’ll soon see, ‘beginning’ is a tricky thing to determine for this tale.” He shifted in his seat, settling back. “Imagine, if you would, this growing crisis that faces our world. Imagine if, instead of seeking alternate solutions, we had decided to create a will for our star, as Lahabrea had proposed.”

Elidibus leaned forward, heart beating faster. Azem framed his words as an idea, a theoretical alternate timeline, but already the strings of truth were resonating with his words. Lahabrea’s suggested solution had been the first thing to make him realize Azem was not being forthright. But what this implied…

“In the wake of such a decision, one made in my absence and which I could not accept, I would step down from my position on the Convocation. But imagine the plan still goes through, the rest of you using the life energy of nearly half our people to create an artificial will for our star. This would have the desired effect of halting the Doom, yes, but at a terrible personal price for the Convocation—such a powerful Will would override your own, co-opting you to serve it, blind to the danger it could pose. And so others move to create another grand entity, one to oppose and bind the first. But this one is created to divide and conquer, to split whatever She strikes. And the Will of the Star is, to all intents and purposes, its soul. When He is sundered, so too is the star itself, divided into fourteen reflections. Each soul, divided; memories, divided; our lifespans themselves, divided.”

He fell silent. Elidibus barely noticed at first, so full his head was of these revelations. No wonder Azem had been so adamantly against Lahabrea’s plan… It was plain through the connection granted by his gift that this was no fiction, no mind exercise, but a truth. He cleared his throat.

“You invite me to imagine this as a theoretical exercise, yet every word you speak rings with truth. How is this possible? How did this come to happen?”

Azem took a deep breath, releasing it as a shuddering sigh. “Then you believe me?”

“How can I not?” Elidibus spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

Azem’s smile was as warm and bright as the sun. “Nevertheless, it means everything to me. Thank you for listening, and trusting me.” Emboldened by Elidibus’s response, he went on, detailing how a bare handful of those on the Convocation somehow escaped this Sundering and set about trying to put the world—and this god they were now beholden to—back together, at great cost both to themselves and to these new shattered lives. He told of a world consumed in darkness, of empire and civilization rising only to fall in flame, in quake, in water. Another world, nearly consumed by light, which some future-born fragment of his own soul would travel to and pull back from the brink.

The Ascians—twisted shades of the Convocation, still bound to life and duty and false god—finally vanquished… and then a resurgence of the Final Days. This same fraction of Azem eventually driven to the sky, to the moon where the shattered god was imprisoned… and a hope and a prayer sending him, riding every last bit of this god's power, back in time to find Azem—the one who sat before Elidibus—before all this could become irrevocable.

It boggled understanding.

Azem had been right, Elidibus reflected with grim humor. He was _quite_ grateful for the drink.

For a long time after Azem finished his explanation they sat in silence. Elidibus's head was spinning, and the effect had naught to do with the wine he'd had. Eventually he felt the stirrings of worry from Azem and hastened to quell them.

"Though this tale be beyond strange, fairly beyond _belief,_ I can sense that you mean every word. That you spoke with your future self I do not doubt, nor that he told you of what would pass should we create this will." He fell silent, thinking. "I assume, by how little hope you have of being believed, that this time traveling fragment is no longer about. Or would it be possible to speak with him?"

To his surprise Azem paused. “Yes and no, but mostly no. There was… nearly nothing left when I found him. Barely a shade, the faintest trace of a soul, bearing a heavy burden of memory.” Silence, stretching out for a moment. By the turbulent emotions rocking through Azem, Elidibus deemed it best not to interrupt. “He is within me now. All those memories. He joined himself voluntarily to me to share them. It was no trouble, since our souls are one and the same.” He gave a brief smile. “But the memories are strange enough, different enough from my own, that I must access them slowly, carefully, or risk rejection.”

And rejection, Elidibus realized, would be catastrophic, or at least might be—any unassimilated memories would be lost, and even those already accessed might be twisted or too disconcerting to revisit.

“You realize,” he said slowly, “this is an area where my gift may be of help.” Azem straightened from his weary slump, his gaze suddenly piercing. “Not the memory itself, of course, but to assist in attuning them with your own soul. To forge a bond to bind you more closely so they might not slip away. You did say you have not yet fully explored them, correct?”

"Yes, that's right." A pensive moment passed, and he again transfixed Elidibus with a stare. "If you'd be willing to help, I would be grateful."

* * *

The worry in Azem's breast eased once more at Elidibus's immediate smile. "That _is_ why I offered, of course. I would do the same for anyone, but in this case it could perhaps mark the difference between survival and extinction." His words visibly sobered him, his gaze dropping. It landed on his glass, now empty. Abruptly reminded of the duties of a host—in his defense, Azem but rarely had any opportunity to play the part—he surged to his feet, taking his own glass as well as Elidibus's to the kitchen to refill.

"Please, feel no need to go to trouble on my account…" Elidibus trailed off at Azem's exasperated glance, color and a smile brightening his face. "Very well. And thank you."

"Least I can do in return for all you've done for me." Sensing more protest brewing, Azem hurried on. "I'm just grateful you don't seem to think I've lost my mind."

Accepting the now-filled glass Azem held out, Elidibus returned to his previous seat. "There is a very particular imbalance that I've observed to accompany madness. While the biological component itself is far beyond my understanding, its emotional effects are sensible to me." Azem settled into his chair with a sigh and took a drink. The malt liquor burned pleasantly down his throat. Elidibus continued, his own drink held delicately in his fingertips. "You have ever been a steady rock, a paragon of balance in all walks of life. I suspect all the world would fall to madness before you would."

"Barring that caused by this Sound phenomenon, of course."

Elidibus gave him a piercing look. "Indeed. But you have sufficient confidence in your ability to evade that to offer your protection to another, even though I know full well you will be out there combating it as soon as it comes near."

Azem tried not to wince. Elidibus was far too perceptive. But then, it was that very keenness that had helped him believe this fantastic tale. "Then there is no reason to delay, yes? We can try it now to see how it goes." He reached for his mask, hesitated. "I would be most comfortable doing this bare-faced." Elidibus gestured for him to go ahead, and he slipped the mask off, setting it on the arm of the chair. Closing his eyes, he settled lower in the chair and folded his hands together. "Go ahead whenever you're ready—I'll focus on the memories to help guide you."

He only dimly heard Elidibus's murmur of appreciation, already visualizing in his mind's eye the ward containing the memories he had been gifted. It had been a hasty job in the beginning, throwing tricks he'd picked up from his colleagues together with his own skills and understanding. After returning to Amaurot he had scoured the archives and crafted a much more effective containment for them.

It was this he saw now, golden bars and curves surrounding a reservoir of mnemonic aether, keeping it intact and untainted by his own memories. The sophisticated barrier had a window of sorts, a way for him to view the interior without having to immerse himself in foreign memories. It was this he focused on now, regulating his breathing and banishing other thoughts.

Abruptly the hazy memory resonated and chimed, and he fell.

* * *

He found himself trapped in a circle with a hooded figure. It stood leveling a staff at him, drawing aether from him. He was _burning_ with it, light scouring his soul, too much. Dangerously out of balance.

A loud crack rang out, and the figure and circle fell as one. A man dressed in finery now approached, lowering his weapon. Even before he heard the cadence of his speech, before analysis revealed the sharp mind behind the man, his stomach sank at the sight of particularly quirked eyebrows, at a distinctive and telling lock of white hair.

He would know his dear friend Emet-Selch in any form, after all.

Even had he not feared for the life of the one who had meant to save him, every iota of his energy was consumed in staving off the light trying to ravage his soul. He could but watch the twisted and cruel remnants of his friend within that stranger, as he raged at the weakness of soul that let the light burst free, staining the air around him, the very _sky_ above them. Likely none of the others present could see it, but _he_ knew Emet-Selch well—and to his trained eye grief was on full display.

After all, Emet-Selch could not have failed to recognize this soul, even sundered as it would be.

In the end, Emet-Selch was right, and his every effort of will insufficient. As light claimed the sky above, so did darkness claim his own sight, and then his consciousness.

* * *

He burst from the memory as from a bitterly cold pool, launching to his feet, gasping, shaking himself free. Elidibus had removed his mask at some point, and sharp concern drew his features tight. A thrill of panic shot through Azem.

"Could you see that too?"

To his enduring relief Elidibus shook his head. "Nay. You did appear most agitated, though. Groaning and tossing about as though in the grips of some nightmare."

Azem dropped back into his chair, taking a long pull from his drink. Much as he wanted to hide his relief, Elidibus had likely already picked up on it. "It was not a pleasant memory. Usually I see these from without, like a typical vision. This one was much more vivid—as much so, perhaps _more,_ than if I had used my abilities to interact directly with the scene, even though I did no such thing. At least not by design."

"Perhaps it is to do with both involved here being part of the same soul, essentially. Or mayhap something about my own abilities caused it. It seems this was a bad idea—"

"Not at all." Azem hastened to cut him off. "It worked wonderfully. Much less difficulty than normal, and much better fidelity. It was merely the nature of this memory which made it so difficult."

For a minute Elidibus was silent. "Were there by chance any revelations that might prove helpful, then?"

Azem thought back over the memory. "Nothing directly helpful. Another window into the awful after-effects of Zodiark's summoning, primarily."

Elidibus nodded at that, sipping his wine with a thoughtful expression. "By this description and the anguish you experienced, I assume you encountered one of us—a member of the Convocation."

Azem tensed, the line of questioning putting him on edge. He racked his mind for a way to divert it—

"Who? Which of us were you set into conflict against? Not that it wouldn't hurt you deeply to fight any of us, but I cannot recall ever before sensing such heartrending pain in my life."

"That I will not divulge," Azem said, injecting steel into his voice. "There is no gain in worrying over a future I will not permit to come to pass. The knowledge will be my burden alone."

For a moment he thought Elidibus would protest, would demand that Azem satisfy his wondering. But he remained silent, his face falling as curiosity was displaced by horror. Azem saw the moment Elidibus concluded it must have been himself, and hastened to relieve his budding despair.

"Before you worry too much, let me say that it was not you. For your peace of mind I will reveal this. But I must ask—if you are going to help me agan, give me time to process what I relive, to find what information may be of help to us, and to share it in my own time."

Still looking troubled, Elidibus nodded. "Of course. Please forgive me my eagerness to know—my curiosity is not of importance here."

"It is already forgotten." Azem leaned forward to lay a hand atop Elidibus's own. "The goal is to prevent that future entirely, making it irrelevant. In the end, you but need understand that _any_ of us, under the wrong stressors, could become monstrous. Let that caution us to humility, and that humility keep us from falling."

To this it seemed Elidibus had no argument. The younger man took a deep breath, and as he released it a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He raised a smile to Azem, and finally the vise of fear eased from about his heart. Leaning back into his chair, he returned that infectious smile.

"Apart from the subject matter itself, that went well. Shall we try another?"


End file.
